What If
by Bluee27
Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius with a knack for sleight of hand, and now he was a genius with an addiction. He wasn't about to leave the graveyard without those two bottles. Established Morgan/Reid. Starts after Revelations. *UNFINISHED & ABANDONED*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This picks up right after Revelations ends; I plan on sticking to cannon except that this piece has Morgan and Reid already in a relationship.**

Reid was kneeling next to Hankle's body with his entire team watching him; it shouldn't have even been possible for him to take the Dilaudid without anyone seeing. But Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius with a knack for sleight of hand, and now he was a genius with an addiction. He wasn't about to leave the graveyard without those two bottles.

When they were tucked safely into his left pocket, he straightened up and wrapped his arms around himself in a nervous gesture. He knew he was surrounded by experienced profilers, but the fact that he'd just been captured and tortured by a psychopath gave him more than enough excuse to be slightly uncomfortable. They wouldn't think twice about his posture.

Morgan tried to talk to him after he got up. He offered to drive him and when Reid declined he couldn't stop himself from begging his younger lover to come with him.

"Please, Reid. Please," he said.

"Damn it, Morgan! _I_ get taken by the unsub and _I_ nearly die and you think now's the time to force what you want on me? I'll ride with Hotch," he spat. Reid never cursed simply because he found he liked how people reacted when he did so rarely. When Dr. Spencer Reid said "damn," people knew he was pissed.

And Morgan backed off. His face was completely unreadable, but he let Reid go. He'd watched as Reid had died, he'd watched as Reid had knelt beside his torturer's body, and he watched now as Reid walked away.

Reid climbed into the back of the SUV Hotch was driving. Gideon was with him; the two leaders of the team tried to make normal conversation on their way out of rural Georgia. Reid sat in the back, dying to be alone, fantasizing about the Dilaudid in his pocket.

He hated how he'd left Morgan, but he couldn't be with him right now. Reid knew that what he had in his pocket was one of the most addictive drugs available; he'd never thought he'd be in a position to actually feel how powerful that addiction could be.

Reid could hardly think of anything besides making sure he could get high again. Even now, he knew that once he was alone he somehow needed to find needles and… God, did he even know how to inject himself? Reid's face lost all color and his mouth dropped open.

The inane conversation in the front seat broke off. Hotch glanced up into the rearview mirror and saw his expression.

"Reid? What's wrong?" he asked.

Reid swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "N-nothing."

It was an unconvincing lie, but Hotch wasn't going to force Reid to share.

They arrived at the airport and Reid got out of the SUV. He was a little surprised they were flying out at this time of night, but he was also grateful. A war was being waged inside of him. Dr. Spencer Reid knew that the moment he was alone he'd take more Dilaudid; he was pleased he wouldn't have that opportunity in a cold, lonely hotel room in rural Georgia.

Newly addicted Spencer railed against the possibility of having to wait until the flight was over and he'd found needles to feel that rush again. The addict could only remember the man who'd introduced him to this amazing feeling and who'd saved his life. He wanted to forget his own betrayal of Tobias; wanted to not see his eyes dulling as he expelled his last breath. The guilt was tearing him up inside.

But Reid felt guilt, too, for the way he'd shunned Morgan and duped the team by taking those bottles. They felt like they were burning in his pocket and he wondered if Hotch or Gideon would look and see the lumps there. And the biggest problem was, Reid also wanted to forget. He knew that the Dilaudid could melt the shame away.

Hotch, Gideon, and Reid stood next to the jet waiting for the other members of the team. Reid leaned most of his weight on his right foot; he'd hardly noticed the pain in his left while walking to the SUV, but now it was starting to bother him. Reid shoved his hands in his pockets nervously, caressing his poison and his cure with his thumb.

When the others finally arrived, Reid boarded the jet first with Morgan close behind. Reid made it about halfway up the stairs before he stumbled; Morgan rushed up behind him to keep him from falling. The older man grabbed his arm and helped him make it into the jet.

When they were finally inside, Reid yanked his arm away from Morgan, who'd been trying to hold on. Using the seats to make walking easier, he picked a seat in the back. He curled his legs up on the seat with him and stared intently out the window. Thankfully, Morgan didn't come talk to him.

When the others finally arrived, Reid boarded the jet first and picked a seat in the back. He curled his legs up on the seat with him and stared intently out the window. Thankfully, no one bothered him.

Morgan watched Reid curl up and sit down. He looked so completely lost, but he'd made it very clear he didn't want to be around Morgan right now. He chose a seat a row in front of Reid, so that he could reach out to Morgan if he wanted to.

_God, Reid, are you actually going to go home, find some needles and get high? What the fuck kind of plan is that?_ he thought to himself.

_You can forget. And you can do it on your terms. Who are you hurting if you go home and self-medicate from time to time?_ the addict inside argued.

_From time to time? So my argument is basically "I could quit whenever I wanted?" I'm not an idiot; addicts can't control themselves._ Reid tried to remember why that was a bad thing. Did he really want to deny himself this?

_But _you_ could control yourself. You're the genius Dr. Reid, _the voice whispered. You _could…_

_But Derek… he'd find out eventually. He wouldn't… want me anymore. He'd hate me. I'd be disappointing everyone around me. Dr. Spencer Reid, genius FBI profiler turned common junkie._ The self-loathing he felt at what he was considering made him want to scream or cry or something, but he could only sit.

_You could hide it. He doesn't have to know. They don't have to know..._

Reid wrapped his arms around himself a little tighter. He longed for the moment he took those bottles out of his pocket, but he had no idea what he'd be doing with them when he did.

I'm planning on keeping this fic going until Reid finally makes the decision to stop using. I hated that we see so little of his struggle in the show, so I wanted to put my own spin on it. I was really inspired by this video that used the song What If by Safetysuit. It just fits their relationship perfectly:

_What if it makes you lose faith in me?  
What if it makes you question every moment you cannot see?_

If you go to youtube and search Morgan Reid What If, you'll find it. It's a great video.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: What If

Rating: T  
WC: ~1,000  
Pairing: Established Morgan/Reid  
Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid was a genius with a knack for sleight of hand, and now he was a genius with an addiction. He wasn't about to leave the graveyard without those two bottles.

"Wheels up" was a phrase Reid heard anywhere from 30 to 40 times a year, depending on how many cases the team went out on. He was sitting on the plane home from Georgia, waiting impatiently for the plane to finally land. _Impatiently- that might just be the understatement of the year_.

He repeated a litany of __ over and over again inside his head as he looked out the window, invoking every deity he'd ever read about but didn't believe in to get him out from under his team's scrutiny. They were about 10 minutes away from the airport, but every second seemed painfully drawn out like a note in a terrible opera.

He'd read about the symptoms of withdrawal; being able to spot users had been useful multiple times since he'd joined the BAU. He was acutely aware of every possible symptom, thanks to his curiosity and eidetic memory. He shifted in his seat, crossing his legs, bobbing his foot anxiously. He figured he was about 4 hours out from his last injection, which meant the symptoms should start soon.

Probably mild things like a runny nose and constant yawning at first, but it was also possible that he'd feel like a menopausal woman in a hot flash or that his pupils would dilate to the size of quarters. Even in the haze of his longing for Dilaudid he had a hard time deluding himself that the team wouldn't notice.

As he re-crossed his legs, this time with his left on top of his right, he came to the realization that he already was experiencing a symptom; two, actually: restlessness and agitation. _I am _really_ not running on all cylinders_.

The insidious little voice inside insisted, _you will be once you take more. Just get some needles and you can make this go away…_

With nothing else to do, Reid absently stroked the bottles through his slacks, calculating how long they would last. He knew that there had been a third Hankle had emptied; he remembered that he'd been given 25 mg each time. He'd been injected 3 times after the first bottle wore out, which meant that out of the 2 250 mg bottles in his pocket, one was full and one had 175 mg left. Enough for 17 doses if he continued with the same amount; more if he lowered it.

Finally, a glance out the window gleaned him a fairly close-up view of the ground. He was intimately familiar with this particular airport; they'd be landing in less than a minute. He could hear the plane's brakes shifting as the runway became visible from the window and he counted down from 3 until the wheels touched ground.

Reid braced himself as the plane decelerated. He glanced at Morgan in the seat in front of him and watched as he pushed his head back, fighting the motion of the plane, as if Morgan was in some sort of pissing contest with the G forces of an aircraft that traveled at over 500 miles per hour.

Reid had absolutely no clue how to deal with him now. After trips like this the two of them usually met up at one of their homes; usually, Reid went to Morgan's. Morgan absolutely loved videogames. He had a Wii, an Xbox 360, a PS3, and more games than any one man should own. Reid used to find no better stress relief than a round of Wii-boxing with Morgan; he actually had a chance at winning, which was more than could be said for his odds against him in a real fight.

Morgan had been fighting the plane for control of his own body for one reason- he knew he couldn't control Reid. After that flare of temper he'd seen in the graveyard, he knew that any attempt he made to get Reid to do anything would be met with a wall of resistance. He heard Reid sigh behind him as the plane finally came to a stop.

Morgan unbuckled his seatbelt slowly, now fighting the instinct to prevent Reid from getting off the plane until he'd at least promised to go get checked out. They'd all forgotten to make boy genius submit to the routine medical evaluation in their haste to get him out of that God-awful place.

Morgan watched as JJ and Prentiss filed out, each throwing a worried glance or two back at their resident boy genius. Gideon exited the plan shortly after the two women. Hotch, who was seated in the same row as Morgan, was gathering his things. Morgan stepped out into the aisle, grabbed his bag from the bin overhead, and left. If Reid actually wanted his company, he knew how to find him.

Reid had planned to let everyone else get off the plane before him, but Hotch was still hovering near his seat, fiddling with his briefcase and luggage. Sick and tired of waiting, Reid got out of his seat and grabbed his messenger bag. The moment he stepped into the aisle Hotch stepped right in front of him, playing Gandalf to Reid's flame monster: _you shall not pass_.

"You need to go to the hospital. Tonight." His voice was firm and his eyes showed that he was not joking.

"You have no idea what I've been through, Hotch. The _last_ thing I need tonight is a hospital," Reid said, equally resolute. He gripped the messenger bag's handle with nervous fingers to stop them from trembling. He couldn't stand being without for much longer.

"Agent Reid, this is not open for discussion. This is an order. I _will_ personally take you to the hospital closest to your house and I _will_ make sure you're given medical attention." Hotch turned his back on Reid and walked toward the front of the plane, clearly expecting to be followed. _Like I'm some pathetic Labrador that needs his fucking shots._

But Hell hath no fury like a disobeyed Hotch. Outright defiance was completely out of the question.

"Fine," Reid said, following Hotch off the plane. "You can drop me off and watch me walk in, but I don't need a babysitter, Hotch. I can take care of myself."

After being dropped off at the county hospital and walking inside, Reid waited a few minutes before slipping back out to do exactly that.

**A/N: Sorry to make you guys wait so long for this! This is definitely a hard topic for me to tackle and I really hope to do it justice. Anything at all you find that seems off, please tell me. All feedback is greatly appreciated. I have no idea when the third chapter will come out, especially as school starts for me this week.**


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